Chapter Seven
Annette did not dine with her guardian that evening. Though it would seem that Lord Derrick was completely against the idea, his mother had adamantly insisted on having time alone with the girl. They took their meal in a smaller room together. One that was usually reserved for tea time or other leisurely activities. Propped in a comfy chair the woman directed the servants who waited upon them with a steady hand. She asked for what she needed in a stern but pleasant manner, pointed out anything that was wrong quite calmly. Never once did she raise her voice or go out of her way to call attention to anyones mistakes. It was an odd contrast from having dinner with Lord Derrick and Annette could hardly conceal her shock. Could this gentlewoman truly be the mother of that cruel Lord? His temper seemed more intense than hers. Annette had once faced the brunt of it and had never forgotten the sting it left. Seeing his mother direct herself with self-restraint was by far the most unusual part of the evening. Through the small exchange of conversation that they shared she learned her name was Lady Catherine; not a very uncommon name for the women of the aristocracy. She ate in complete silence, selecting the items off her plate with careful consideration while avoiding making any eye contact with her companion. The food was delicious but Annette could hardly eat more than a few bites.
It was not until the plates had been whisked away and the meal was over that she finally looked over at Annette, scanning her long and hard while a maid brought them some tea. “So...you are a dancer then?” She asked, to which Annette nodded instinctively. “And you are chaste as well? No past lovers? No carnal experience?” A spoon clanked against the inside of her cup as she stirred sugar into her tea.
“No. Never.” She insisted, recalling the humiliating way that Lord Derrick had interrogated her about the subject. “My mother discouraged me from pursuing the sins of the flesh. I did not even have a sweetheart as a young girl. I was so frightened of disappointing her that I avoided men altogether when she passed away.” She paused, watching the maid pour tea into a cup and hand it over to her. “Before your son laid claim to it I had never even been kissed before.”
There was a short pause. She dropped her spoon on the table with a clatter that made Annette cringe with fear. The a laughter bubbled in the back of Lady Catherine's throat and her stern composure was broken. “You word that as if it is a serious crime Miss.” She spoked in between chuckles, sipping from her tea when the laughter had subsided. “But if a kiss is all that has been exchanged what should I make out of the scene I witnessed earlier?”
“I did not do anything!” Annette felt her cheeks redden with a sharp flare of anger. “He attacked me for no good reason. And even after I had told him no the devil would not listen to me. If I had known it was going to happen I would have thrown a glass at his head and ran!”
“A devil you say?” She repeated Annette's insult with a coy smirk, nodding as if in agreement of the term that the younger woman had used. “A devil her certainly is. Though I cannot imagine where it has come from, his father was certainly not like this. Well then, I suppose there is a an apology in order now for my misgivings.” She spoke firmly now, lifting a delicate hand to brush the stray hairs from her eyes. “When informed that my son was keeping some girl holed up in this manner I picked you for a handsome little whore. Derrick however insists that you are completely virtuous....Albeit unable to fight back very effectively.” In her observation of the woman, Annette noted that Lady Catherine seemed to roll her eyes when she referred to her son, expressing a deep distain that pride seemed to forbid her from verbally saying. “I cannot fathom why he has plucked you off the streets. Or why he behaved in such an ungentlemanly fashion in the dining room.” She lifted her head, noting the confused look that Annette gave her before sharply adding; “My son is notorious for dwelling in carnal sins, much to my own misfortune he has been this way for much of his life. But until now he has always been very subtle about his misgivings. Usually he targets ladies of ill repute, and simply cannot decide what reason he would want a virginal ballerina for...”
“I wish I knew why he keeps me here as well.” She replied to Lady Catherine's remarks with a mournful sigh. “If I knew what it was about me that he fancies so much I would happily destroy it so I could escape from here. I cannot stand this place.”
She smiled complacently, sipping from her cup of tea as a servant walked by in the hallway. “You are quite pretty I suppose. You're not of any noble breeding but you have pleasant features and lovely hair. Still, I am certain there are prettier from where you came. And I cannot fathom it would be very difficult to find a well-worn tart in a place as seedy as performers troupe.” She set her cup in her lap, balancing it gingerly between her hands. “My son proclaims that you were his maid many years ago, and he pursued you for a long time. It's quite strange. I have no memory of him ever taking any interest in his own staff.”
“He's probably just doing it to make me miserable. He hated me before when I was working for him. I do not think any other man has made me cry as much as he has!” Annette felt the heat rise in her cheeks after she had blurted out this little confession but Lady Catherine took it with stride, waving her hand in dismissal of the younger girls humiliation.
“Just because he is my son does not mean that I know every little thing that goes on inside his mind. If he means to torment you however he is surely not doing it in the usual way. I have known times where he has turned on common folk. He never rewards them with the sort of comfort and privilege that you have.” She met Annette's gaze, studying her a long time before she muttered; “Unless your eyes are deceiving me however, you are quite terrified by him. Very odd considering Derrick is usually an attraction to young ladies.”
“I am afraid that you are correct.” Annette lowered her eyes in shame, refusing to drink her tea but palming the cup the way she had witnessed Lady Catherine do. “His Lordship...he frightens me.” She admitted without meeting the other woman's gaze. “From the moment I met him I have been terrified. I do not know why he treats me more kindly than the rest of his enemies, but I can assure you that this still feels like torture. I don't like being here!”
She seemed startled by her final outburst although the shock quickly transformed into a sympathetic smile. “I understand your plight. If I had the power to repair this issue I would have used it the moment I arrived here but my motherly wills cannot persuade my son. He has his fathers stubbornness I assume.” Lady Catherine sighed, giving up on her tea and placing it on the tray on the table that sat between them. “He denies any intentions of making a mistress out of you, but refuses to provide any rational alternative explanation. I assume that he lies to spare his mother the horror of knowing the truth and so I must ask you; has he ever expressed any intentions of having a....'physical' relationship with you?” She nodded and with that in mind Lady Catherine sighed
“Well then my suspicions were correct. He does want to make a Mistress out of you. The sneaky little liar.” She looked frustrated and her forehead wrinkled with a heavy set frown that must have taken years to show itself. “I should not be surprised. This is not the first time he has targeted an honest woman for his vicious purposes. I imagine that his servant girls have suffered the most over the years.” she toyed with the pearls hanging around her neck, pondering the situation long and hard but never coming up with a solution. “I am afraid I cannot offer you a solution, aside from trying to convince my son to relinquish his guardianship of you. I have my doubts that he would even consider this as he appears to be very intent on keeping you here.” She studied Annette very briefly, seemingly mournful when she looked into the younger woman's eyes. “Had I known about all of this I might have put an end to it and spared you the fate of becoming a whore. But your guardianship has been signed over to him and I haven't the power to remedy things like paperwork.”
Annette felt a warm sensation in her cheeks as she sat there with Lord Derricks mother. It was a surreal moment for her. One that made her want to burst into tears and throw herself onto the floor. She had been very aware of Lord Derrick's foul intentions for some time. But no one had confronted them quite as blatantly as Lady Catherine did. Her sympathy was not enough to ease the knot that gathered in the girls stomach. It was as if all this time she had been a lamb being guided into a slaughterhouse and though she strolled passed butchered animals and pools of blood it was only the confrontation of her gruesome fate that caused the reality to emerge. She hated herself. She cursed every little thing about her. That evening, after Lady Catherine had excused herself and gone to bed and Annette had been locked away inside her room she lay awake gazing out the window. It seemed like a terrible thing to become someones Mistress. Though she scarcely knew the details of such a title she was aware that it was largely considered sophisticated prostitution to the majority of the public. It might of had more perks than a common street walking woman but it was just as loathsome and the position was always fragile. She would be disposed of when he was finished with her; tossed out onto the street like everything else Lord Derrick deemed as trash. But not before he violated every part of her body and rendered her used and worthless to other men.
That night she hardly slept a wink. Instead she paced about her room restlessly. She contemplated her fate over and over again, sometimes weeping and other times fuming with anger. When she could no longer stand it she tugged at the edge of her bedspread, pulling until bits of thread came loose. All of them were woven into the cord she was making. Then she moved to the drapes and did the same thing to them. Then the carpet. Then she took the needlework she had done earlier and she unraveled and added those threads to the cord. It grew twice in size as a result of that evening, and she was none too guilty about any damage she might have done to whatever fabrics she had attacked in the process. She tucked it away only a few minutes before the door was unlocked for the day and spared herself from having to explain it or what she planned to use it for.
Mandy was shocked to see her up and about at such an early hour but it didn't seem to rile any suspicions. “You really should have tried to get some more rest my Lady.” She managed to lecture as she served Annette her breakfast. “Waking up too early is an easy way to make yourself ill.” As she said this she dusted her hands against her apron, smiling in that knowing way of hers. How she managed to stay so cheerful and act as if everything was alright astounded Annette a great deal. She looked down at the plate that had been set before her, grimacing at the thought of yet another morning eating at that tiny little table in her room.
She refused to eat anything more than a few bites though Mandy begged her to take more. After awhile she wore the older woman's patience until at last she swept the trays away and came back to help get Annette ready for the day. She was even less helpful when it came to deciding on a gown, but at that point the maid had simply opted to make the choices for her. The end result was an emerald coloured gown that was cut uncomfortably low for Annette and though she protested it Mandy refused to help her change into something else, reminding her that it was her initial stubbornness that had gotten her into such an uncomfortable predicament in the first place.
For the first half of the day she spent some time with Mr. Kent, who stroked his long white beard as he complimented her improvement. “Any day now you will become a literary master my dear!” He said with a chuckle as he watched her write out basic sentences again and again. Annette smiled although she found her printing rather unsavoury; as if it was the sloppy work of a child. Though she disliked the situation at hand she did not mind her lessons with the elderly teacher. Mr. Kent was a kind and patient man. Though she made numerous mistakes he never punished her with violence or harsh words, vehemently insisting that such an act was ungentlemanly. “Only the barbaric teachers, who have not developed their skills of instruction would resort to things like caning their pupils.” He fumed to her at one point. When she told him what Mr. Gregory did when she failed to learn the piano he chuckled aimlessly under his breath. “Gregory was always a brute.” He was true to his word so far, and never raised his voice throughout the afternoon. To motivate her to improve however, he would promise her rewards, which usually came in the form of sweets, which he gave to her every time Annette did something correct. By the time she was done he laughingly proclaimed that she had eaten every single one that he brought and she mourned his absence when he left.
Madame Francis came around lunch time in order to show Annette how to eat at a formal banquet. Her nose wrinkled when she watched the girl lift her fork with a heavy hand and slurp her soup. 'Don't ever place your elbows on the table!” She cried at one point, her eyes budging with horror. Annette obeyed reluctantly, folding her napkins the way she was taught and trying to practice how to properly eat with each utensil. It seemed like a terrible waste of time, and the required method made getting anything more than the smallest bits of food to her mouth at a time, but it pleased her instructor. She was much happier when Madame Francis left however, and smiled inwardly when she watched her depart.
Lord Derrick was kept occupied for most of the day by his mother which spared Annette from having to dine with him or find herself being dragged outside for a walk. She was relieved to know this although vaguely suspicious that it was Lady Catherine will. Mandy sat and helped with her needlework before and after dinner but she spent more time focused on swiping bits of thread than getting anything done. As she sat she decided that when the Lord's mother had left she would dearly miss her absence. She refused to have a bathe and so Mandy helped her out of her gown and dressed her for the evening, smiling weakly with the reassurance that some time alone would be good for her. When she was returned to her room again for the evening she added more to her cord, then spent a little time at the nightstand practicing a little bit of the etiquette Madame Francis had taught her earlier. It took her mind off of everything else, and she hoped that with a bit more improvement perhaps the lessons would stop. It was still a little early and although she longed to rest she refused to go anywhere near her bed. She gazed out the window multiple times, pacing wildly about the room in a frantic search for something else to do. Several times she came to the door, examining it and trying to see if it was even possible to get it open but the lock seemed complex and Annette had no knowledge of how to get it open. When she could no longer stand it she collapsed at the foot of her bed and did not stir for the rest of the evening.
Life went on like this for almost a week without pause, permitting only scarce moments where Lady Catherine would seek her out for a discussion. She told her everything in that stern but honest voice of hers, smiling in contemplation as they exchanged whatever tidbits of news they might of had. Annette could not resist telling her that she preferred the isolation. Though most of her time was either spent taking lessons or being confined to her room, Lord Derrick's absence had made her more cheerful. She spoke of how she felt safer now knowing that he could not seek her out as readily as he had before. And not having to walk with him or dine with him was a blessing even if the alternative was semi-confinement. “Yes, I would have guessed you would enjoy being alone for a little while.” The older woman replied with a heavy sigh. “I have kept him in my grasp for some time now but I am afraid that none of this shall last. I will eventually have to return to my own estate, and I do not know when I can return.”
Annette felt her stomach sink. “But what will I do after you are gone?” She whispered from out of the corner of her mouth, trying to force herself to avoid thinking about the possibilities. “I cannot fight him. He is much too strong!”
“My dear...I know how difficult this situation has been for you. Trust me when I say that I feel absolutely terrible for you. But there is nothing more that I can do. My son has made a decision and once he has made up his mind he will stop at nothing to achieve his goal.” She felt Lady Catherine take her hands, squeezing them in that affectionate way that only mothers seemed to know how to do. “The life of a mistress...it is not so bad you know? It's extremely rewarding in the long run. Even the ones who aren't very clever always end up profiting a small fortune. Some are even married off to exceptional men when the affair has ended. It isn't so bad.”
“No. It IS bad. It's absolutely terrible.” Annette sobbed, yanking her hands away from the other woman's when the initial shock had settled. “And I would sooner die a thousand painful deaths than ever become that man's mistress!” She stood up, feeling rejected and hurt by everything that had transpired. She paced about the room angrily, unable to keep still with all the fear and alarm brewing inside of her. Lady Catherine remained seated. She was surprisingly calm in spite of everything. The girl's reaction did not seem to surprise her. If anything she appeared like she had been expecting it.
“You can scream and cry all you want it is not going to change your fate. It is already decided. It was settled and done with the moment you set foot in this manor.” She looked up, eye Annette darkly as she clasped her hands together tightly. “I have done everything I could think of to help but it is not going to change a thing. My best advice for you is that you learn to accept your fate, and embrace it. Otherwise you will only be making yourself miserable. You aren't the first woman to be dragged to be unwillingly, and you certainly will not be the last.” She left within the hour, departing from Blackthorn and thereby leaving Annette to her fate. From the second floor she watched as the carriage she had arrived there in slowly carried her far, far away. When it was gone she continued to stare, wondering if she would ever see Lady Catherine again.
“So tell me my dear, what do you think of my beloved mother?” A voice called from behind her but she didn't dare to look back. The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled knowingly as she heard those familiar footsteps pace towards her. “I must say, She spoke quite fondly of you before she departed. I was convinced that she would dispose you after that embarrassing little moment last evening. But she seems to have taken a fancy to you. You must have made a lasting impression.” Annette did not budge from where she was standing but she turned her head ever so slightly so that she could observe Lord Derrick as he got closer. It was the first time she had seen him in days. Yet as she studied his pale features in the light of the room she concluded that he had not altered in demeanour since their departure. The smug way that he cast a look at her as he took his place on the opposite side of the window was unforgettable, it reeked of the same arrogance he had displayed so vehemently when Lady Catherine had stumbled in on them.
“She is a very kind woman.” Annette whispered softly as she redirected her gaze to the outside view. “I enjoyed the time that I got to spend with her. It was delightful.”
He snorted, casually looking back at her again as he coley replied with; “I suppose that you must already know that she has been trying to convince me to release you. That first night she would not accept anything other than your immediate removal from Blackthorn. And she called you a whore back then too. Many times in fact. Though after i told her of your pure deposition she became pacified.” Annette felt her shoulders tighten but she refused to express any outward dismay. She focused on the trees blowing in the wind, and fantasized about fleeing across that grassy field again the way she did when she escaped from Blackthorn the first time. He was not moved by her stubbornness, and snickered as he turned towards her with his hands clasped behind his back. “I'm sure you're disappointed that my mother failed to bend me to her wishes.”
She flinched, yearning to run away and hide from this man. Oh how she hated the way that he spoke to her. The delight in his tone and the mocking way that he laughed made her blood boil. She would have stomped off right then and there except that pride kept her frozen. “Lady Catherine spoke to me about my situation my Lord. She told me that you would not change your mind about the issue, and that I should accept my fate rather than resist it.”
“Wise words. Very wise indeed.” He murmured with a slow nod of his head, narrowing his eyes as he peered at her again. “And tell me, do you agree with the Lady?”
Her nostrils flared as she scowled at him. “I don't entirely trust the advice of any woman who could give birth to a demon my Lord. Even if she meant well I do not agree with her. Perhaps other women with lesser will would roll over and embrace a life of whoredom but not me. Never me!” As she spoke she stamped one foot on the ground, hoping to seem determined. Instead however he laughed at her, examining her with his dark gaze for a moment as she continued to stare daggers at him.
“I never knew that you were so passionate Annette. If you had not taken the dancers path in life you might have been a wonderful actress. Just listen to that rage of yours! Why, you make it sound as if you are being sold into a seedy brothel.” He paused at that moment, gazing up at the ceiling and then back towards her. “If this were a brothel then you would surely be the luckiest whore on this earth.”
“I don't care how nice everything is! Don't you see that I don't care?!” As she spoke Annette found herself fighting back dry sobs. She loathed his implications. It made it seem as if her fate was already sealed. “I wouldn't care if you gave me rooms full of gold and diamonds the size of a man's fist. None of it matters if you're just going to ruin me and toss me aside like trash. You mother says that I am lucky, but I would gladly trade places with a woman in prison right now if it would only get me away from you. I hate you. I HATE YOU!” Her voice was hoarse after that, for she had screamed so loudly it made her throat ache. She did not wait to hear what he had to say to her, choosing instead to turn away and storm off.
She thought she would be nabbed by one of the servants and dragged back to her room for the evening. Instead she heard the thunderous noise trailing behind her as Lord Derrick pursued her across the entire manner. Every door he came in contact with was slammed and the longer she ran the louder the noise became until he had all but cornered her right in front of the library. Annette's heart pounded in her chest as she scrunched against the nearest wall, weeping although she knew her tears were futile. It was terrifying to seem him come charging up to her; his face twisted with an expression of pure, uncontrolled rage. When he reached her he said nothing but snatched a handful of her hair and dragged her into the library wailing and thrashing.
“My Lord, you're hurting me!” Annette cried as she flailed her arms in the air. She was like a rag doll in his grip, he lunged her around with ease, tossing her onto the floor in the centre of the room and dusting his hands off in accomplishment.
“It appears that you will not learn manners through ordinary lessons alone my dear.” He growled from the depths of his chest, nudging her with the toe of his boot as if reaching to examine a dead carcass. “You seem to forget your place in this world far too often. And it is a habit that I simply cannot tolerate anymore.” Annette pulled her arms over her head as if to shield herself from view. Through her tear filled eyes she could only make out the blurry outline of his figure. There was a rustle of fabric and a clicking sound that she did not quite recognize. When she looked up at him her blood when cold and a fitful cry bubbled from the depths of her throat. He had unfastened his trouser and rolled them down to his knees, exposing the pale flesh that had been hidden beneath and stirring every little ounce of fear that Annette had not yet experienced.
“Please!” She squealed as he caught her by her leg and dragged her towards him. She felt his fingernails dig into her calf as she thrashed and squirmed; trying to break free but knowing that it was all in vain. He overpowered her quickly. Subduing her by locked one arm around her waist and squeezing until her ribs ached. She anticipated more violence. In some ways Annette expected it. Even though she was thrashing and squirming a part of her felt as if it was all inevitable. She waited for the sound of ribbing fabric as he tore her dress from her body and tried to imagine how terrible it had felt the first time he had done so. She anticipated being pinned to the floor and having her virtue stolen right then and there. A brutal method, but she didn't expect anything grand from the devil who had ensnared her. Perhaps it was this expectation that caught her off guard and made her less focused on fighting. She did not think that he would lower her onto the floor in front of him, or that she would find herself being posed and position like a child's toy. He held her by the back of her head, and sunk into the chair that he had dragged behind him. “Open your mouth.” She heard him demand. She resisted at first, not knowing what he intended to do and fearful that it might cause pain. Annette was punished by having her hair pulled again, this time so hard that she could barely stand it.
She obeyed, and regretted it moments after. No sooner that her lips had parted did she realize his intent. Though Annette could recall every warning her mother had ever given her, and had known long ago what happened when a man and a woman embraced she had never been warned of other acts. Though she had occasionally heard them whispered between other dancers in the theatre she had never paid attention to their details; only to know that they were lewd acts that only those seeking lustful pleasure engaged in. No one of civil upbringing would every engage in such foul behaviour.
The man that held her was a Lord. She thought this with despair, wishing that she had bothered to listen more to the disgusting things that other women discussed between performances. All the blood drained from her face as he forced her to take his manhood in her mouth. The sensation was enough to make her sick. It was vile. It was wicked. She felt a twinge of despair as the warm appendage slowly worked it's way inside of her, filling her in a strange and almost inhuman way. He did not release her at first. He forced her to say in that position for a long time as he forcefully pumped her head forward and back, groaning as the pleasure coursed through his body. Annette did not dare to look up at him, but even the sounds that he made caused her to shudder. Though she struggled she could not break free, and when she momentarily bit down he growled and pulled her hair even harder than before.
Though she forced herself to go limp and tried to focus on other thoughts she found herself studying every single detail. Annette had not so much as seen a man naked until this point. She did not known what mysteries lurked beneath the clothes of all the youths she had known throughout her life. It made her heart sink to learn the truth in such a way. The way he moaned as he abused her and forced her to pleasure him made her feel as if her stomach was twisting up into a knot. He was slow at first but gradually got faster, and the longer he went the louder the moans became. She heard him whisper her name and cautiously glanced up. He was leaning back in the chair with his eyes closed; an expression of bliss had replaced the hostile expression that had frightened her earlier. Yet she felt as if she preferred the anger. Anything would have sufficed if it replaced having to endure Lord Derricks groans. When he reached his peak she felt his body go stiff and a salty fluid coated the inside of her mouth. She wailed and flung herself away, shocked to learn that he had released her at that moment. She spat every last dropped of it onto the floor, wrenching violently until she swore she was going to be sick.
Tears flooded her eyes as she knelt on the floor, sobbing loudly as she allowed what had transpired to slowly sink in. He did not comfort her. He said nothing to appease her as she rocked back and fourth, hugging herself for comfort and wishing that she could awake from this terrible nightmare. When he left the room she continued to cry until one of the servants came to fetch her. Then she was confined to her room. Just as she had once wanted.
